


Chance Meeting

by aigo_babiesatemydingo



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, brief mention of a muder-rape case, dismembering of a body, post-2x08, short one-shot, talk of murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 14:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aigo_babiesatemydingo/pseuds/aigo_babiesatemydingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After ‘Tonight’s the Night’ (2x08), Ed takes Oswald back to his apartment with big ideas of causing chaos for the people of Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Meeting

Getting home hadn’t been as easy as Ed had originally planned. The idea had been to go to a secluded forest to bury Ms Kringle, fully clean his car (he’d brought the supplies with him), head home for a shower and early dinner, and then get to bed so he was fresh and ready for a new day at work tomorrow.

Then the hunter had ruined his plans. Ed liked plans, he liked order, he liked having a schedule; he didn’t like having those plans interrupted and ruined. It had taken extra time to go back to his car in order to get what he needed to dismember the rude man (digging another hole would take far too long, not to mention wear him out when he needed to stay sharp and focused) and return to the body. Then of course his day just got even worse when he found his sandwich eaten. That was supposed to be his last meal with Ms Kringle, the woman he’d been pinning for ever since he had joined the GCPD. It was despicably rude, though more than angry he had been curious. Who would take a sandwich which lay only a few feet from two dumped bodies? Especially two halfway buried dead bodies – it would be clear to even a simpleton that meant the killer was close by.

And there was a trail of blood, too. This made the person easy to follow, and Ed had sighed at having to waste even more time killing this mysterious person. Honestly, at this rate by the time he got back into Gotham he’d have no time for dinner. He’d definitely make this person regret taking his and Ms Kringle’s lunch.

Following the trail of blood hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. Ed was a city man; he was acumstomed to manoeuvring a concrete jungle, not a dense forest. Rather than smooth roads and sidewalks he was tripping over tree roots and attempting to duck low hanging branches. It didn’t help that the blood was spotty and hard to see amongst the leaves, and wind and animals had scattered the trail further. Ed was still walking by the time the sun had set. He was feeling extremely agitated. He’d left the two bodies behind unburied, thinking the mystery man or woman couldn’t have gone far in an injured state, and the longer he left Ms Kringle and the hunter unattended, the more chance somebody would stumble upon them. Hunters didn’t usually hunt alone, did they? (Ed could admit he had little knowledge in the area of any blood sports.) The man may have friends nearby. If they discovered the bodies Ed could be in big trouble.

Following a splattering trail of blood in the dark with nothing but a flashlight was a headache, so when he finally came across an old battered looking trailer Ed was more than ready to kill the person and get back. He’d memorised the way back to the bodies, so he wasn’t worried about that. And returning would be a lot quicker as he wouldn’t need to gaze at the ground, eyes peeled for drops of red.

What he wasn’t expecting was to have a door smashed into the side of his head by one Oswald Cobblepot. Nor was he expecting the Penguin to ask for his help before collapsing unconscious at his feet.

For a few long moments Ed had sat where he’d fallen, gazing in wonder at the man before him. He’d known that Penguin was laying low, a warrant out for his arrest, but he knew no more than that. He’d been far too preoccupied with the disposal of Ms Kringle’s corpse to keep up with the goings on in the city, and therefore had no idea how the king of Gotham’s underworld had ended up bleeding in a forest.

But although Ed didn’t like to be unprepared, he adapted well and quickly scrambled to his feet. He would help Mr Cobblepot, of that he didn’t even need to consider. The Penguin could help him, he was sure of it. Ed had gone through a metamorphosis recently – was still going through it perhaps, and had no one to speak to. He’d tried with Ms Kringle, thinking she’d be happy that he’d ridden her of that ape, but look how that turned out. Oswald Cobblepot, however, was also a killer. He’d killed more people than Ed, and most likely ordered a lot more hits. After all, one doesn’t reach the head of the mob by handing out cookies and ice-cream.

So he scooped the mobster up in his arms, carefully resting his bleeding arm against his chest and tucking a hand under Penguin’s twisted leg. It was a good job the man wasn’t heavy, and was on the shorter side as Ed already wasn’t having an easy time after the all the walking he’d done. He stumbled his way back through the forest, trying not to misstep in the dark with only a flashlight he was struggling to keep a grip on to aid him. He ended up with a few scratches to his face, and he was sure Mr Cobblepot did as well, but regardless he arrived back to Ms Kringle and the hunter. He carefully set the Penguin down, knowing he needed to work fast. His tools were sharp, and he knew exactly how to cut through bone. His work dismembering the hunter was sloppy, and ordinarily he’d be disappointed with himself for this, but his mind was distracted by the man slowly turning paler by the minute. Shovelling dirt – even with half a shovel – into the hole was much easier than taking it out, and once he was satisfied the bodies were covered and the ground looked undisturbed he once again picked Mr Cobblepot up and headed for the road, placing him down along the backseat of his car.

“I won’t be long,” he promised the unconscious man, then hurried off to get his broken shovel and picnic basket.

It was a good hour’s drive back to the city, which Ed spent constantly looking over his shoulder and into the mirror at the mobster in the back seat. He sincerely hoped that Mr Cobblepot didn’t die on him.

It was late when he arrived home, so getting Penguin into his apartment building wasn’t hard. He placed him onto his sofa and stripped him of his shirt so he could get a look at his wound. As Ed had expected it would be, it had been caused by a bullet. There was no surprise there.

Ed had a habit of taking work home with him. He had a collection of all sorts of surgical equipment and drugs stashed away, and today they were about to come in useful. He cleaned Mr Cobblepot up, stitched the wounds each side of his arm after making sure the bullet had left his body, and injected him to guard against infection. He’d leave the painkillers until the man woke up.

Once satisfied he’d done all he could, Ed headed for a well deserved shower, leaving his guest to rest and recuperate. He hadn’t lost too much blood, his state was more from exertion than blood loss so hopefully Mr Cobblepot’s convalesce would be swift.

The pleasantly hot water relaxed Ed’s tried muscles as it washed away the blood and dirt. He’d not managed to clean his car; he’d have to miss work tomorrow to do so. It was probably for the best he didn’t go in now anyway, not with a wanted criminal in his home. Mr Cobblepot was likely the most wanted man in Gotham right now.

His car was tucked away in a private garage, so he wasn’t worried about leaving it for the night, the mobster however he wasn’t as sure what he ought to do with. He was unable to predict how Mr Cobblepot would react upon waking. From what Ed knew of the man, he didn’t hesitate to kill, but wasn’t rash. Ed was confident that he wouldn’t wake up and immediately attempt anything, instead Mr Cobblepot would want the details, to know where they both stood. Ed could work with that.

Once clean he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a wonderfully soft and fluffy towel around his waist before he stepped out into the main room of his modest apartment.

After checking on Mr Cobblepot and satisfying himself that he would be fine after a few days of rest, Ed pulled on some pyjamas and climbed into bed, knowing he’d have a interesting day ahead of him tomorrow.

~*~

It was the smell of sizzling bacon that woke Mr Cobblepot the following morning, and with a bright smile Ed had handed him a bacon sandwich, the smaller man taking it while looking rather confused. Ed wondered if he remembered the previous night, but so far Mr Cobblepot remained calm, if a little guarded looking, so Ed made no rush to explain.

“I would make a full breakfast, but it’s probably for the best you don’t eat too much just yet. Painkillers?”

Mr Cobblepot blinked, looking up from the plate to Ed. “I – yes, thank you. I appreciate your hospitality most sincerely. I am, after all, a stranger to you.”

Ed’s smile grew. “I’m a pain to all, though not physical. An experience you can’t avoid, I’ll always leave you feeling vacuous.”

“…What?”

“Forgetfulness!” Ed beamed to the bemused mobster on his sofa. “We’ve met before, Mr Penguin.”

“I…” Ed watched as he trialled off, and his smile only grew when a flash of recognition lit up blue eyes. “Oh, yes, from the GCPD.” His expression became more guarded as he observed Ed critically. “So why am I here rather than in one of those dank cells at your fine establishment? I do not recall having you on my pay roll, Mr… Nygma?”

Ed would bet his lab that Mr Cobblepot was remembering his emperor penguin statement. Though he didn’t understand why it had annoyed the smaller man so much, what was wrong with penguin fathers caring for eggs? It was a simple penguin related fact for the man named after such an animal. Still, it had perhaps not been the best start between them judging by the reaction he’d recieved. “Yes, Edward Nyma. Hello again.” 

“You found me in the forest,” Mr Copplepot said. “What where you doing there?”

“Disposing of a body,” Ed replied with a polite smile, and watched the surprise on his guests face with a sense of satisfaction. He did enjoy evoking reactions.

“And why did you have a body?” The mobster asked, reassessing him, judging how much of a threat he was.

Ed didn’t approach him. He’d learnt last time that people didn’t react well to confessions of murder. “I killed my girlfriend’s boyfriend, and I killed her more recently. I’d previously disposed of the boyfriend’s corpse via dismemberment and acid erosion, and yesterday had travelled to the forest to bury Ms Kringle too. Although I was interrupted and ended up with another body.”

Mr Cobblepot stood with a wince he tried to hide (though Ed’s keen eyes rarely missed anything), his legs weak under him, particularly his bad one, and it reminded Ed he’d yet to give him some pain meds. He held onto a metal pole for support as Ed watched on curiously. He didn’t seem scared, but weary. “The hunter,” he concluded. Ed wondered if the man was running through the idea of killing him if it became a matter of self-defence. It would make perfectly logical sense, if only Ed hadn’t brought him into his own home rather than easily offing him in the forest. “And this Ms Kringle was in the suitcase, I’m sure it’s safe to assume. That was you?”

“Yes,” Ed smiled, glad he didn’t have to explain it further. Half the people at the GCPD were complete and utter apes, needing every small detail spelled out as if they were a class of overgrown three year olds. Thank Darwinism the majority of the human species weren’t such mindless creatures, even if only by a few IQ points. “I followed your blood trail with the intention of killing you since you were a witness, but when it was you who came out of that trailer I of course did not.”

“Why?” The question sounded like a demand, and Ed frowned a little, but was quick to perk back up.

“Plenty and abundant, rare and cherished, something we need but often overlooked.”

“Please,” Mr Cobblepot held up a hand. “Enough with the riddles. Just answer the question.”

“Help, Mr Penguin,” Ed beamed. “You could help me!”

“With what?” The mobster asked, suspicion back. “You seem to have things under control. You are clearly capable to covering up your kills. For what reason would my assistance be needed?”

“This… this murder business, it’s new to me,” Ed explained, finally walking closer and sitting himself down on his sofa. “But I admit I find a thrill in it. I enjoy riddles and puzzles, Mr Penguin, and what greater puzzle than a murder mystery? I want to play, and you have lots of experience with murder.”

Mr Cobblepot tilted his head, looking very much like a bird, and he hobbled closer, sitting back down one cushion over from Ed. “So, you wish for me to kill people, so you can leave clues for the police? You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t see the appeal in this, Mr Nygma. I would rather be out of prison running Gotham rather than locked up with a crowed of brawling hooligans.”

“Of course, of course,” Ed said. “That is not what I meant, Mr Penguin. I am more looking for a … mentor, I suppose you could say. I promise it would be worth your time.” He’d caught his interest; Ed could see it in his eyes. Good, perhaps this would go better than he’d thought. “You, Mr Penguin, know how to beat a person with a baseball bat, but I know how to subtly cause them so much pain they would be willing to spill all their secrets. I imagine that to a person like you and of your stature as the city’s top crime lord that would be a valuable skill. I’ve studied human biology for many years, Mr Penguin, and have examined the results of many brutal crimes: including crude torture methods.”

“I’m listening,” Mr Cobblepot said, intrigued by the idea.

“As a forensic scientist, I know a person’s weak spots. I know how to cause and manipulate pain, leaving little to no visible marks if necessary. And of course, I have access to many means of disposing of corpses.”

He looked to the other man excitedly, waiting in anticipation for his response. Mr Cobblepot mulled it over for a few long moments, and Ed forced himself still when he just wanted to squirm about, before his eyes rested on Ed’s.

“I could find your services useful, that is true,” he said slowly, deliberately. “But what is it that you wish for in return?”

“Help me become the killer I want to be,” Ed said, shuffling closer, grin bordering on manic now the Penguin hadn’t immediately turned him down. “You know how this world works, how to run it, how to get away with it. You can kill a man and just dumb his body in a river, even in front of many witnesses and still get away with it scot free.” He laughed, waving his hand like a body being carelessly tossed.

“This job is partly ruling through fear and intimidation,” Mr Cobblepot shrugged. “Some murders are meant to be seen. It keeps people in line.”

“But I want murders to be fun,” Ed said, edging over so close he was almost touching the shorter man, though Mr Cobblepot didn’t back off, just looked at him enquiringly. “I want to leave clues to find and riddles to solve. I want to give people puzzles. But it would be hard to accomplish on my own.”

“I see,” Mr Cobblepot said. “And what exactly d-”

He was cut off by the ringing of a phone, and Ed quickly pulled it from his pocket. He glanced to his guest, not wishing to be rude, but he gestured for him to go ahead and answer.

“Nygma!” Captin Barnes’s voice greeted him, and Ed startled slightly at the volume. “Why are you not at work?”

“Sorry, sir, an emergency came up very suddenly.” Ed lied, sounding very genuinely apologetic. “I meant to call, but I seem to have lost track of time.”

“You had better not be skipping work with Kringle, Nygma,” Barnes warned. “I haven’t seen her around either.”

Oh dear. Not going into work this morning meant he couldn’t explain away Ms Kringle’s disappearance. He’d written a letter posed as her, explaining that Dougherty had come back for her and they’d left together. It would be fairly believable, after all the last time he’d seen Doctor Thompkins he’d told her that they’d had a fight. Not to mention most people at the GCPD thought he was too weird for her anyway – nobody would be surprised if she’d dumped him. All Ed had to do was play the part of a broken hearted ex-boyfriend, something which shouldn’t be hard since barely any attention was spared on him, unless to make fun of.

He was going to leave the letter at Ms Kringle’s work station, but it seemed now he’d have to quickly re-type a new one addressed to himself to show people of his woes on being disregarded for another man.

He sniffled slightly into the phone, twisting his tone into something pitiful although his expression stayed neutral. “Ms Kringle… it appears we aren’t together any more. She… she left.”

He glanced over to his guest and Mr Cobblepot was looking at him with amused curiosity.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that, Nygma,” Barnes replied, awkward but not actually sorry sounding. “There’s been a murder-rape, and your assistance would be valuable.”

“Of course, sir, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up after the captain had given him an address and turned back to Oswald. “I apologise for my rudeness, but work beckons.” Seems he would be going in after all, if a little late.

“By all means,” Mr Cobbleot said. “I wouldn’t have you get into trouble on my account, my friend.”

Ed nodded, and glanced around his apartment. “Please stay here for at least today, Mr Penguin. You still need to recover, and the police are searching for you. Nobody will visit I can assure you, you’ll be fine here. Feel free to use my bed, and there is food in the fridge. Medical supplies are in the bathroom and a closet in my bedroom. Your shirt was ruined by the blood and bullet hole, so feel free to borrow some clothes.”

“Thank you,” Mr Cobblepot said. “I very much appreciate your kind help. Please let me know of how I could repay you.”

“What we were discussing,” Ed said without hesitation, making no move to head out. “Do you find it agreeable?”

The Penguin smiled, looking more like a shark than a bird, and Ed thrilled at the sight. “I want you to prove that you can do all you say you can. Bring me back a present.”

Ed’s smile stretched wide, a gleam in his eyes. “Anyone in particular?”

“Well, you have a case now. This man will do,” Mr Cobblepot decided, voice casual but eyes bright. “You seem to be intelligent, so track him down before the police and I’ll see if you can make him sing.”

A game! Ed clapped his hands together in excitement. Edward Nygma against Gotham’s police force – who would be quicker?

He all but bounced off the seat, now eager to get going. He had a prize to catch, and he wasn’t going to lose.

He quickly fetched those painkillers and a drink for Mr Cobblepot and pulled on his shoes, phone in hand as he typed up a quick goodbye note from Ms Kringle to e-mail himself and print off at work. “I’ll prove myself to you, Mr Penguin,” Ed promised, though it was more to himself than the mobster. He would do this, he’d prove to himself that he could do this, and then the games would truly begin. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face even if he wanted to. “And our partnership will be beautiful.”

He left, closing but not locking the door behind him, mind full of the possibilities and riddles that was awaiting the city of Gotham.


End file.
